Eminence
by Shareq
Summary: It's no secret to Nick that most of the world's gone to hell. It is a mystery, however, who the hell he's supposed to trust and lean on when every city he's ever gambled in is burning. Surely not the annoying redneck mechanic? Chapter two added.
1. Keep On

_This is the first part of a series of short drabbles that explores the post-apocalyptic universe of Left 4 Dead, and more specifically the relationship between Nick and Ellis, both romantic and not. Updates will be sporadic and will probably only occur for a month or so before I declare this complete. Most of the "chapters" will be about this length, and some will most likely be a bit longer. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to let me know exactly what you think in a review~_

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He had never known hopelessness. Of course, he had suffered defeats, in his gambles and his marraige. He had given up on things before, had folded in games of poker and neglected to return phonecalls. He had been torn down to nothing in shrieked accusations and running mascara and been left to bleed in filthy alleys. But through all of that, Nick had always held onto the belief that he would never, _could_ never, lose everything.

That belief had died along with most of humanity.

After sprinting through a burning building and an abandoned amusement park and suffocating in a swamp, all the while dodging human monsters borne of disease who wanted nothing quite so much as to tear him down, tear him apart, it was difficult to retain an optimistic attitude. Try as he might, Nick just couldn't find the part of himself that had always said, _Hey, hey, hey, calm down, take a breath, everything's gonna work out... it always has, always does. It's fine._ Nothing in the world ever seemed like it could be fine again bound by a Smoker's tongue.

And now here he was, on a boat to what could not be salvation (_but, damnit, you have to tell yourself that's what it is or how else are you gonna keep going, just keep going_) and searching for the damn voice that made all this shit bearable.

It just wasn't in him anymore.

The voice wasn't in him, but... it was there. Spoken in a lazy Georgian drawl, spilling from the cracked, grinning lips of someone much younger than Nick himself, there was the voice that said _It's okay._ There was the voice that said _You have people watching out for you. _The voice that said... Goddammit, Ellis's was the voice that said _We have to keep going because there's something after this. There's always something after this._

And hell if Nick didn't believe every damn word of it.


	2. Fixed Up

Okay, so he was hurt. Kinda bad, actually. The Hunter that had jumped him earlier had done more damage than he thought, if the searing pain that shot up his leg every time he took a step was any kind of indicator. And even worse, it was causing him to fall behind the rest of the guys to the point where there was a noticeable gap between him and the closest person, who happened to be Nick.

Ellis gritted his teeth and tugged his cap even further down on his head, clenching and unclenching his fingers around the handle of his paddle-thing with his other hand. Maybe if it was Ro, or even Coach, he could have felt alright calling out to them for help, but to admit he'd gotten injured to _Nick?_ Hell no, never ever in a million years. The older man would just tease him about it. _"Oh c'mon, Ellis, thought you were indestructible? Never thought I'd see you whining just like a big baby."_

To avoid that, he'd limp the rest of the way to the damn bridge if he had to.

Apparently the powers-that-be weren't in on his little plan, though, 'cause right at the point that Ellis released a damn near _silent_ hiss of pain, Nick craned his neck to look behind him. The Northerner's eyebrows went up as he beheld the mechanic suddenly come to a standstill, looking for all the world like he had been caught doing something forbidden, leaning heavily on his right foot.

To Ellis's surprise, Nick didn't smirk or make a smart-ass comment or do anything inherently Nick-like. Instead, the conman turned straight around and started walking to the younger man with a very, _very_ slight expression of concern in his eyes.

Coach noticed the two men lagging behind and called out, "Hey, y'all wanna hurry your asses up? We still ain't near a safehouse."

Nick waved a dismissive hand at him and replied, "You two go on ahead, make sure the way's clear for a while. Ellis is hurt."

The Savannahite felt his cheeks catch fire as his (rather poorly kept) secret was exposed. He was about to protest that it really wasn't anything worth stopping for when Nick cut in. "I'll take care of him and we'll meet back up in a few minutes. Five or six, tops."

Reluctantly, their impromptu leader nodded and motioned to their female teammate to come on. Rochelle spared a worried glance behind her as she trotted after the large man.

Nick reached him as the other two rounded the corner of a building and disappeared. Ellis half-heartedly glared at the other as the conman pulled the medkit off of his back and unzipped it, kneeling before the mechanic. Meeting his irritated gaze, Nick narrowed his green eyes and asked, "What's with the evil look?"

Ellis continued to glower. "Y'know ya didn' have to tell those guys anything was up. I'm fine."

Finally, Nick's signature smirk made an appearance. "Yeah, just fine, huh? In that case, why don't you try putting some weight on your left leg?"

Ellis met his look and did as he was asked. He even managed to hold the stance for a few seconds before he finally had to shift to favor his injured leg again, groaning softly in pain. Nick grinned in triumph, his point made. Ellis blushed all the way to his ears as he said, "Well, ya still didn't have to split up the group or nothin'! It's better if we're all together."

"Oh, so you'd rather Rochelle be around when you take off your pants?"

Ellis spluttered. "T-take off my- Nick, what the hell, man! I ain't taking off my pants in front o' no one!"

With extrordinary patience, Nick said, "Ellis, if you don't take them off how am I supposed to properly treat your wound, huh?"

"Holy hell, I can jus' roll up the leg or somethin'! There ain't a need for _indecency_, Nick." To Ellis's mortification, his face felt hot to the point of spontaneous combustion. "There is no way in hell I'm taking off _anything_ in front of _anybody_, no way no how." His point made, Ellis firmly crossed his arms in front of his chest and set his jaw.

Nick appeared unimpressed with his little display as he evenly demanded, "Ellis, just do it."

There was a tense silence. Finally, Ellis gave an overexaggerated sigh and huffed, "_Fine_," before undoing the knot to his coveralls with practiced efficiency and sliding his pants halfway down his legs before gingerly having a seat on the asphalt and slipping them the rest of the way off. He balled them up and hugged them to his chest as he gave Nick the stink-eye.

Nick (who was amused, but not shocked, to discover that Ellis's choice in undergarments included race car boxers), gave a low whistle when he saw the gash running up Ellis's left calf. It was a little deeper than he expected. Still totally treatable with gauze and pain pills, but for the boy to have been running around on that for as long as he had? Damn.

He set to work, pulling a small bottle of alcohol and some cotton wads out of the kit and dabbing the stuff with uncharacteristic gentleness along the slash, ignoring the other man's quiet noise of discomfort. He expertly cleaned the wound, being familiar with the routine by now, before tossing the used cotton to the side (who gave a shit about littering any more,seriously?) and retiring the alcohol back to the case. He retrieved some antibiotic ointment, a dime-a-dozen, plastic yellow tube, and the bandages.

Ellis sat quietly through the treatment, fascinated by the way Nick's decorated fingers wrapped his leg with ease borne of repitition. A thought occurred to him.

"Hey, Nick?"

The other grunted, still absobed in his task.

"How come you're always doin' this kinda stuff for me?"

The fingers paused momentarily, an almost unnoticeable hesitation before the Northerner answered, "Doing what kind of stuff for you?"

Ellis furrowed his brow, thinking Nick was just picking at him to get him riled up. Lord knew the man was fond of that. "You know what I'm talkin' about. You're always patchin' me up when I get hurt, and givin' me pills and adrenaline and stuff. Like, _every time I get hurt_, you're always there with somethin' to fix it."

Nick snorted, "Ellis, I do that for _everybody_. If we didn't help each other out when we needed it, we'd be dead by now."

"Yeah, I know that, but," Ellis argued, "it seems like you're always doin' it for me more than anybody else. Like, _way_ more."

To Nick's horror, he felt his face heat up. _Holy shit, blushing like a goddam teenager now, are ya, old man?_ He quickly finished wrapping the wound and jumped to his feet, spinning around to hide his flush. "T- that's because you're an idiot and you're always getting hurt _way more_ than anyone else! Jesus, if you could learn to stay out of goddam trouble, I wouldn't _have_ to fix you up all the time!"

Ellis blinked before a grin stole over his features. "Yeah, but Nick, you _could_ let Coach or Ro do it, but you hardly ever do," the grin became a smirk. "You know what _I_ think?"

Nick leveled a death glare at the pavement as he replied through gritted teeth, "No, Ellis, what the hell do you think?"

Ellis took his time reclothing himself and getting up to test his leg before he drawled, "I think it's for the same reason you was so eager to get my pants off. _'Cause you like me._"

Nick had never spluttered so incoherently, and Ellis had never laughed to hard, in his life.


End file.
